


mad little thing called love

by futurefishes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hannor Week, M/M, Mistletoe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Role Reversal, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurefishes/pseuds/futurefishes
Summary: Hannor week! 7 days with Hank and Connor!day 1; reverse auday 2: mistletoeday 3: neighbor auday 4: cafe auday 5: royalty auday 6: presentsday 7: fake/pretend relationship au





	1. day 1.

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome!!  
> this is a ficlet collection that's written based on the prompts for Hannor Week!! i love ship weeks like this, and considering how much i love hankcon, dbh and writing, what else to do than to participate?
> 
> i hope you'll enjoy, and thank you for checking in!
> 
> day 1; role reversal!au

The victim is Wayne Wilson,” Connor’s partner - a HK530 model, that has the name Hank, voices as his eyes gazes at the dead body before them. “He’s been dead for about five days. Estimated time of death is 11:21 PM on November 3th.”

Connor hums, pressing his hands against his chin. He tries to ignore the feeling of nausea that washes over him as he takes in the seen, and he takes a deep breath. “Cause of death?”

“Stabbed to death,” Hank replies almost immediately, his LED going from the calm blue to a pulsing yellow, and Connor figures that he’s trying to analyze the body once more. “His body also shows signs of strangulation and various bruises, indicating that he was beaten using tools. The injuries he gained from the assault would’ve been enough to kill him, if the stabbing hadn’t.”

“Fuck,” Connor swears under his breath. He can feel the frustration build in him, once more, because this crime scene is starting to get _too_ familiar for his liking. “What’s the possibility of the culprit being the same as the other crime scenes we’ve investigated so far this week?” 

Yellow. Before back to blue. “83,91%.”

“Damn,” Connor mumbles, looking around the crime scene. The technicians are at work, doing their best, just like they always have done so far.

They’ve all done their best, really, or at least, Connor likes to think so - he has spent so many nights awake since the first crime scene they visited that seemed to have some kind of relation to the rest. The late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning had been spent trying to find _something_ in the big piles of clues as well as trying to go through his own tactics, wondering if there’s something he could’ve done better.

Every time Connor thinks about it, he concludes that, no, there’s nothing he could’ve done that would’ve gotten them anywhere so far. The culprit has been extremely cautious of leaving any clues leading the police to him behind, which means that the investigation falls flat.

“Your stress level just raised by 3 percentage points, totaling in a stress level of 72%. Is something the matter?” Hank’s voice is kind, just the way that Cyberlife had programmed it to be, and it’s what manages to get Connor out of his thoughts. He sighs.

“Nothing," Connor lies, trying to come across as fine although he knows that Hank can see through every lie that presses by his lips. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

Hank says nothing as Connor walks past him out the door, and Connor can’t help but be thankful.

The air outside of the god-awful house is damp and wet, the rain having just let up to give Detroit a few moments of calm, grey clouds. Connor comes to a stop on the pavement, taking in a deep breath, to get rid of the smell of death that seemed to stick to his lungs. He reaches inside his pocket to grab a cigarette from the box, along with his lighter. He puts the familiar drug to his lips and lights it.

He inhales and exhales, watching the smoke disappear in the thick air. He can hear someone walk up behind him, the heavy footsteps well-known for him now. He doesn’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Did you find something, Hank?” Connor asks in an exhale, watching as another cloud of smoke disappear in front of his eyes.

Hank doesn’t answer. The footsteps get closer until the android has come to a stop right behind Connor.

Hank’s hand falls onto Connor’s shoulder, and before Connor can argue, Hank spins him around and into his arms.

Connor’s freezes as Hank’s hands wrap around him. Connor finds himself feeling surprised at how soft Hank is; despite being an android, he’s soft and warm. Connor can’t help but to cuddle closer to him, making Hank’s arms squeeze around him tighter.

The fire in his cigarette dies out as they stand for a few minutes, just holding each other. Although he knows that the world is still moving, it feels as though time has stopped just for the two of them.

“Hugs are, according to research, a great cure for stress,” Hank says as they both pull away after what feels like an eternity. “Your stress levels has decreased significantly, detective.”

“Huh,” Connor lets out, as he stares at his android partner. Hank’s LED is a soft blue, and it lets out a small humming sound as it spins around. For a moment, it looks like Hank is giving him a very warm look, almost one of appreciation, but that couldn’t be right. Hank wasn’t human. He was a machine.

It hurts a little, to think that Hank probably didn’t feel the same warmth in his chest as Connor did when their bodies touched. It’s a warmth that’s healing, somehow. It’s something Connor is craving.

Naturally, he can’t help but ask. “Can I get another one? I’m still quite stressed.”

Hank pulls Connor against him once more, never once questioning him. Connor puts his ear against Hank’s chest, and he can hear how his thirium pump is working in a regular rhythm.

They stand outside until the rain starts falling again, never once letting the other go.


	2. day 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> today's prompt: mistletoe!!  
> cue kissing!!

After spending a bit over a month together after the revolution, Connor would say that he knows the lieutenant fairly well now.

He knows that he likes to watch horrible cop movies just to laugh at the bad writing. He knows that he likes cooking...

He also knows that lieutenant Hank Anderson isn’t that great at being subtle.

Which is why Connor immediately understands what’s going on when he wakes up on Christmas morning, with a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling in the living room.

It had taken him a quick search on Wikipedia to understand _why_  the plant was placed in their ceiling. _“_ _ In the Christian era, mistletoe in the Western world became associated with  Christmas as a decoration under which lovers are expected to kiss.” _

_Ah_. Connor could feel his LED humming as it spun yellow, before it turned back to calm blue.

He could feel his thirium pump beat louder in his chest. He wasn’t opposed to the idea he knew Hank had in mind; in fact, he was looking forward to it. Looking forward to find himself under the mistletoe together with Hank, and kiss him, just like the human tradition.

It’s always fun to try new human things. Kissing has been something that Connor has always been curious about, ever since he heard about it. From what he's read on the internet, kissing is a meaningful activity.

One he wants to experience with no one else but Hank Anderson.

Speaking of; Connor can hear the bedroom door open and then the bathroom door close. It seems like Hank’s awake, fairly early for him. The sound of the toilet flushing and the water in the sink running soon makes itself known in the house and Connor notices how Sumo’s ears perk at the sound.

Hank emerges from the bathroom before long, wearing sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts. Despite it probably only being something that the lieutenant threw on, he looks good in it. Then again, Connor thinks Hank looks good in everything.

“Good morning, Hank,” Connor voices as normally as he can, trying to sound like he isn't overly excited about something. He’s standing straight under the mistletoe, in the junction where the kitchen and living room meet, and he can see Hank’s eyebrow furrow at his weird placing. “Slept well?”

“Good morning. Better than usual,” Hank replies through a yawn. He looks Connor up and down as he begins to walk toward him. It seems like he’s forgotten about the plant that he planted above Connor’s head after the android went into statis yesterday..

Seems like Connor will have to remind him.

Just as Hank’s about to pass him by into the kitchen, probably to grab himself some breakfast, Connor grabs onto his arm. Hank looks over at him, a confused look on his face. Just as he’s about to argue, Connor points up to the ceiling.

Hank turns a  _ wonderful  _ shade of red.

“It seems like we got caught under the mistletoe, lieutenant,” Connor says as innocently he can, loving the way Hank scowls as the use of his title. “According to my research, humans have a tradition to share a kiss if they stand under it.”

“What about it?” Hank asks, his voice low and grumpy, as he refuses to meet Connor’s gaze. 

“As a part of my deviancy, I strive to learn as much about the human world as possible. Hence, it would be preferable if we could follow the tradition,” Connor begins. Hank’s heartbeat quickens, but he doesn’t answer.

Connor tries again. “I want to kiss you, Hank.”

“Oh god,” Hank mumbles, hiding half of his face behind the palm of his hand. He takes deep breaths, and for a fleeting moment, Connor is afraid he did something wrong. “Fine.”

Hank’s large hands cup Connor’s cheeks and pulls him closer, until their lips touch. It feels soft, Hank feels soft and warm and safe, and Connor’s arms sneak around the lieutenant’s neck to pull himself closer. Hank tastes like toothpaste, and before his closed eyes all the ingredients in said toothpaste is listed. 

As Connor’s lips move against Hank’s, the latter lets out a sound that makes Connor’s toes curl and his stomach go warm. It’s an amazing feeling. 

When they pull away, Connor is certain. This is his favorite human tradition. He loves this. He loves kissing. He loves  _ Hank. _

“You happy now?” Hank asks, diverting his gaze from Connor ones more. Connor’s eyes are focused on Hank’s swollen lips.

“Extremely,” Connor says and he hears Hank grumble something under his breath. Connor smiles. “You wanted to kiss me too.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I did.”

Connor feels delighted and happy at the small confession, and he reaches his hands out to cup Hank’s cheeks. “I liked kissing. I found it to be very nice. Would you mind doing it again?”

Hank’s lips are on his quickly, and that’s his answer.


	3. day 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> today's prompt: neighbor au!!

Hank wakes up too early, because of the damn ringing on the door.

He curses as he stumbles over the boxes filled with various furniture, needing to be unpacked, as he tries to navigate himself to his wardrobe. He’s tired, but not so tired that he’s going to greet the one who awoke him without a shirt, only wearing his boxers. 

“Sumo,” Hank yells as he comes out of the room, pulling a grey t-shirt over his form. The black sweat-pants have slight stains on them. He can’t remember where the origins of said stains, but he figures it’ll have to do, despite it not being his most presentable way of greeting someone. Sumo, who looks up to Hank with a curious look as he hears his name getting called, barks loud once more. “Quiet, boy.”

Sumo gives a small bark in return and follows Hank into the small hallway of his new house. His tail is wiggling as he watches Hank’s hand touch the door handle.

As he swings the door open, he’s met with the face of a young man. A  _ very good looking  _ young man, that is. 

His hair is dark and slightly messy, his brown eyes warm. There’s a slight smile on his lips, and although it’s supposed to be polite, Hank can tell that his visitor is nervous. The black glasses resting on the youngster’s nose frame his face perfectly, and he can’t help but find it to be really cute.

“Hello,” the man greets with a voice that Hank can only describe as goofy. “And welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Connor and I live in the house across the road from yours.”

“Hello,” Hank greets back, too surprised to think of any other words to say. He wants to blame it on the early hours of the morning, but he knows that it’s also because of the fact that there’s a handsome man in front of him. His eyes trail down to the square box that Connor holds in his hands. He can see how his neighbor follows his gaze, letting out a noise in realization.

“Oh, right. I made you some freshly baked bread,” Connor begins, and he has a look so shy that Hank almost feel secondhand embarrassment. “It’s full-wheat. I hope you like them.”

Hank does not like full-wheat bread, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell his neighbor that. “I like it. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Connor voices, a sheepish smile forming on his face as he hands over the box of bread. “I never got your name, by the way.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” Hank swears as he grabs a hold of the box. Connor smiles politely, and Hank can feel himself sweating. “I’m Hank Anderson.”

“Hank…” Connor repeats, and Hank watches as the polite smile turns into a wide grin. “That’s a nice name. I’ll see you around, Hank!”

“Uh,” Hank begins dumbly, as Connor has started to move away from the door and towards the sidewalk. “Yeah, see you.”

After closing the door, he goes to the kitchen. He’s too wide awake to fall back asleep, so he figures that he should stay up. He puts on a can of coffee and hesitates when he goes to grab the white slice of loaf that he usually eats. Although he doesn’t normally eat full-wheat, he finds himself curious to try what Connor offered him.

He reaches into the box to grab a slice; putting on marmalade and cheese, before taking a bite. 

And of course, it’s good. 

“It’s delicious, Sumo,” Hank mumbles down to his dog, who tiredly looks up at him at the mention of his name. “What the fuck?”

-x-

The next time Hank sees his neighbor is when he’s out on a walk with Sumo.

Connor is out on an early morning run. Hank feels bitter when he sees him; because, first of all, how the  _ fuck _ is he not sweating buckets? And second of all, why is he up this early in the morning? Hank would’ve loved to hide under his blankets for many more hours, but Sumo’s duties had called, and he had had to reluctantly pull himself away from the warmth of his bed.

Connor must love to suffer. That’s it. That’s the only logical reason as to why he’s up running at the god awful hours of the morning.

“Good morning, Hank!” Connor greets as he comes to a stop next to him. He’s breathing a bit heavily, and Hank wants to chuckle. At least he seems a bit tired from the workout. 

“Is it even morning yet,” Hank mumbles, watching as Sumo runs up to Connor, nosing at him. Connor kneels down and laughs as Sumo licks him on the cheek. 

“You have such a good dog,” Connor coos, and Hank hates himself for the warm feeling that spreads through out his chest at Connor's warm smile. “I love dogs.”

“You should come by and play with him sometime,” Hank says before he can think about it, and Connor’s eyes widen. “He seems to like you.”

“I’d love to!” Connor exclaims, and Hank’s heart jumps in his chest.  _ Fuck _ , it’s too early for this. 

“Great,” Hank voices, because it’s the only thing he can think of saying. His mouth is dry as he stares at Connor, who looks absolutely delighted, and he knows there is not turning back now. “How does this Friday sound?”

“It works for me. I can bring us something to eat,” Connor is continuing to pet Sumo, but his eyes never leave Hank’s form. 

“Awesome,” Hank replies as Connor stands up again. Sumo looks sad as the hand petting him suddenly disappears.

“I need to get going now, but I’ll see you on Friday then?” Connor asks, a wide grin on his lips. 

“Yeah, we’ll see you then,” Hank says, and he waves goodbye to Connor as he starts his run again. 

As Sumo finds a big tree to take a piss at a few meters in front of where they had stopped to greet their neighbor, Hank realizes that Connor’s cheeks were redder than before. 

It was a good look. 

-x-

“Good evening, Hank,” Connor greets as soon as Hank opens the door. He almost wishes he didn’t - his neighbor looks amazing, with his tight grey shirt and his black jeans. A part of Hank wants to slam the door in Connor’s face, if it meant that he could get away from the feeling of his heart beating in his chest.

He had realized it a few hours ago, when he found himself eager for Connor’s visit when he was at work. It had earned him a few angry words from Gavin, who told him to stop being  _ fucking distracted  _ but he had been too busy freaking out to actually care about his ass of a co-worker.

Hank was quite sure he was attracted to Connor. Attracted to his damn neighbor with the stupid smile and the warm eyes and the good, healthy bread. 

Maybe that’s why he slightly stutters when he greets Connor a good evening back. Maybe that’s why his heart is almost jumping out of his chest when he lets his eyes trail down Connor’s frame. 

_ Fuck _ .

“I made some Shepard’s pie,” Connor begins, pink high in his cheeks. There’s a slight waver to his voice, which indicates that he seems to be nervous as well,  _ thank god _ . “It’s nothing special, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“It looks delicious,” Hank says as he takes a peek at the pie that Connor puts down on his kitchen counter. And it really does. Hank has always been one that likes cooking - and he used to make various dishes before his life went downhill - but he swears that he never has made anything that looks as picture perfect as the pie in front of him.

“Thank you,” Connor smiles, and the pink in his cheeks turn a darker red. It’s beautiful, and Hank can’t help but think that he wants to make that blush spread on Connor’s body.

They get through dinner quite easily; Hank notices that it’s quite simple to talk with Connor. Despite being 20 years his junior, they get along well. Connor is very intellectual, and is up to date with most subjects and current events. It makes their conversation interesting and light, as the serious conversations about the recent news is interrupted by fun jokes and playful teasing.

After cleaning the dishes - which Connor insisted on helping with, despite Hank’s arguments - they are seated in the couch. They’re sitting so close to each other that their shoulders are constantly touching, and Hank knows that he should move further away, but he doesn’t want to. Connor doesn’t seem to mind either; sometimes, Hank gets the feeling that his neighbor is even leaning into the touch.

Sumo is on the couch next to Connor. The Saint Bernard is resting his head on Connor’s lap, as Connor keeps petting him softly, his eyes focused on the television.

Watching Basketball has been one of Hank’s favorite activities, as of late, but now he can’t focus. All he can think about is the warmth of Connor’s touch. 

He wishes he had the courage to reach for him even more. Maybe wrap an arm around him, like the fucking cliché thing they do in movies and bad rom-coms airing on tv. Maybe he could even reach down and press his lips against Connor’s lips. He wonders if they’re as soft as they seem.

“Hank,” Connor’s voice suddenly interrupts his thoughts, and Hank jumps slightly in his seat. He hopes Connor doesn’t notice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Hank replies, very aware of the added pressure to his shoulder, as Connor leans closer. There’s a sudden weight on his shoulder as Connor leans his head against it, and Hank watches with wide eyes as his neighbor closes his own.

“I like you,” Connor mumbles, so quiet that Hank wasn’t sure he’d head him correctly. But the blush that’s back on Connor’s cheek and the nervous look on his face tells Hank that he did, indeed, heard what he thinks he did. “I have been interested in you ever since I saw you the first time, a few days after you moved in. It's okay if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to tell you.”

Connor’s brows furrow, and he’s squeezing his eyes shut, as if to shield himself from the rejection that he thinks is coming. But his face softens into surprise as Hank’s arm comes around his frame, pulling Connor closer to him. 

“I like you too, Connor,” Hank says with a chuckle, loving the way Connor’s face goes from surprise to doubt to  _ delight _ . The grin on Connor’s face is the brightest thing Hank has ever seen. “Fuck, I like you so much.”

Connor giggles, and cuddles closer to Hank. Hank’s arms wrap around him tighter, and he smiles warmly as Connor presses his lips against his cheek. "I'm so glad you moved here."


	4. day 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cafe au!

Early mornings at the cafe were Connor’s favorite. He loved waking up early and go for a run before he got to the store, to start preparing for the day ahead of them. 

He loved to bake the pastries that would be sold and drink tea as the rest of the world was sleeping. It was relaxing and made him feel extremely content. 

Usually, there aren’t many visitors at the bakery until later in the morning. When the store opens, they usually only have about three or four visitors, all of whom are regulars. Connor knew them well enough by now that he was aware of their working hours, knowing they always wanted to have a hot drink before they started their day.

One of them was Hank Anderson; a man in his early fifties, with long silver hair. He comes by to buy a tall black coffee along with one of the glazed donuts. He’s a lieutenant down at the Detroit police department, and he usually tells Connor all about how he needs coffee to be able to survive “another eight hours with fucking Reed.”

Connor has never met Detective Reed. But from hearing Hank talk about him, he’s quite happy about that fact.

He isn’t sure if Hank has noticed how much Connor appreciates him coming here, and not only for the business. He doesn’t know if Hank notices the small words of encouragement he usually writes on the cups, underneath the lieutenant's name. 

The first time Hank had visited the cafe, Connor just couldn’t help it. He had written something like “do your best today” in his clean font on the white mug. The next time Hank had appeared at the shop, he had written “I believe in you!”.

It had become a habit. One that Connor didn’t think about breaking soon.

As he goes to turn the sign on the door from closed to open, Connor can feel his heart beat loudly in his chest. He’s excited, he’s always excited to see Hank, and today is no different. He looks over to the door often, glancing over to see if he can get a sight of Hank’s big frame.

About thirty minutes after the sign was turned, Connor sees him through the glass door.

His heart beats loudly in his ears as he welcomes his favorite customer inside. Hank looks tired, probably due to not having gotten enough sleep, but he still looks incredible handsome. Connor still questions the lieutenant's fashion choices, the shirt he's wearing a very strange pattern, but he has to admit that he likes it too, in a weird way.

Connor also loves the way that Hank’s face lights up whenever he sees him. It makes him think that he actually has a chance.

“Good morning, lieutenant,” Connor greets as Hank comes up to the counter. He sends him his brightest smile, relishing in the pink cheeks he gets in return. “The usual?”

“You know it,” Hank replies, a wide smile on his face, and Connor thinks that this truly is the best way to start the day.

Connor gets to doing Hank’s order in silence, Hank’s gaze is focused on the snow falling outside of the window of the building. It’s not an awkward silence by any means; but a comfortable silence that makes Connor feel calm inside.

After putting on the lid on the paper mug and grabbing one of the glazed donuts and putting it in a paper bag, he returns to Hank. Their eyes meet, and it’s like Connor can feel electricity spout in his veins. 

“That’ll be 5.89 dollars, please.”

But Hank doesn’t reach for his wallet. He just blinks at Connor. Connor blinks back, confused as to why his favorite customer is frozen in place.

“You forgot to write a note,” Hank mumbles, and the pink in his cheeks has turned into a brighter red. Connor’s eyes widen. “You know… the ones you always write.”

Connor’s jaw falls open. “You read them?”

“Of course, I do,” Hank replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Connor feels what can only be described as euphoria inside of him. “It’s a great start to my day.”

“I’m glad,” Connor voices honestly, moving to grab the warm mug once more. He pulls the black ink pen out from the pocket of his apron, writing down a note. “Could you do me a favor, Hank?”

“What is it?” Hank replies back, his gaze focused on what Connor’s writing on the cup.

“Don’t look at the note until you’re at the precinct,” Connor voices, and he sees how Hank tenses in front of him. “Please.”

“Fuck, now I  _ really  _ want to know what you wrote,” Hank grumbles as he watches Connor put the lid back on the pen and put the cup back down on the counter. “But just because it’s you, fine."

“Thank you,” Connor voices happily, his heart beating in his chest as he glances over at the words. He’s nervous about Hank’s reaction, and it feels like he won’t be able to take it if his reaction were to be anything but positive. 

Hank pays and waves Connor goodbye a moment later. Connor smiles widely at the lieutenant as he walks out through the glass door.

Connors spends the rest of the morning hours trying not to think too much about the message written on the cup, or Hank’s reaction. The words, ‘I like your smile. Text me maybe?’ followed by his number had been difficult to write, but at the same time so freeing - he had wanted to ask Hank out ever since the first time his brown eyes had fallen on the lieutenant. 

Thankfully, the hours before lunch gets busy, so he doesn’t have time to think about Hank’s reaction. Kara comes in just in time for Connor’s lunch break, and as he leaves for the staff room, he gets to look at his phone for the since he waved Hank goodbye earlier.

His heart leaps in his chest. There is a new text from an unknown number. He grins widely as he reads the message, feeling like he’s on cloud nine.

“About fucking time. Dinner at mine tonight? - Hank”


	5. day 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> royalty au!

Ever since Connor had been born, things had been decided for him; what he was supposed to wear, what he should study and what he should do in his spare time. Connor never really questioned it, at least not at first; being the only son to Kamski, the reigning king, was a big deal after all. The people of the country depended on Connor to take over the throne when Kamski no longer could lead the people. Of course, they wanted someone who was well mannered and knowledgeable on a lot of different subjects.

And sure, Connor can accept that. What he, however, cannot accept, is the arranged marriage that Kamski and Connor’s mother Amanda, had planned for him.

He had learned about Kara only mere weeks ago; she was a few years younger than him, but the princess of the powerful country in the east. Their marriage would give the country a powerful alley to guide them in need, as well as economical stability; according to Kamski, Kara’s parents had offered a lot of money for their daughter to marry Connor. This was no longer only a memorable event for the fiances, but also for the countries.

Connor knew his parents well; they were by far the most stern people he had ever met, especially in the castle halls. Despite that though, they had two weaknesses; power and money. And when both of them had been offered to them, what more could they do than give up their son’s freedom even further?

Connor had been furious; he had accepted studying subjects he wasn’t interested in. He had accepted spending his time learning how to speak well and how to behave in formal situations. But he couldn’t accept this.

Because Connor was already in love - with someone he knows his parents never would accept. Hank Anderson, the owner of a small bakery in the middle of the town, owned Connor’s heart. He had owned it since the first time Connor had slipped into his shop to avoid the guards looking for him. During that visit, Hank had talked with Connor, as if he wasn’t just a prince. It had been freeing. He had found himself aching to come back.

Connor knew that he was the one who owned Hank’s heart as well. He had found out when he had visited Hank’s shop two weeks ago. Visiting the shop had become a part of Connor’s weekly routine; the smell of freshly-baked bread and warm coffee made him feel calm, and the smile Hank sent his way always made him feel warm inside. During this visit, Hank had accidentally let slip that he found Connor beautiful, before he had kissed him until they both were out of breath.

Hank was the one Connor wanted to marry. Hank was the one Connor wanted to spend his life with.

He had spent his whole life following orders; now he wants to break free.

One night, in the middle of December, a mere week away from the wedding, he had packed a small bag with his belongings. For the first time, Connor noticed that he barely had any; the only thing that he really owned was the clothes on his body - the rest was the property of his family and the castle. Therefore, the bag wasn’t even full when he slipped out from his window and into the darkness surrounding the castle.

The royal couple had spent a lot on the security of the Castle, and Connor had always felt quite safe inside the walls. He figures that maybe the rumors of how good the security was had been slightly exaggerated - Connor can slip out from castle ground unnoticed, the guards on duty too busy talking with each other to hear his light foot-steps in the night.

As soon as he’s outside of castle grounds, Connor starts to relax slightly. It’s dark enough outside that he knows that no-one will notice him as long as he keeps his face down, away from view. 

Hank is waiting for him just outside of town. He was sitting in a car; it’s nothing like the cars that Connor has rode in before. It’s run down and definitely one of the cheaper cars someone can buy. Connor can see Hank smile through the front window as he sees him approaching. 

He barely gets inside of the vehicle before Hank pulls him close and presses their lips together. It’s a passionate kiss, the kind of kisses Connor loves, and he can feel blush rise in his cheeks as Hank nibbles softly on his lower lip.

“You sure about this?” Hank asks when he pulls away. His lips are dilated and his cheeks warm, one of his hands reaching over to intertwine with Connor’s.

“More sure than anything else,” Connor replies and squeezes Hank’s hand. It seems to still the hesitation in Hank’s eyes, and the warm smile he sends Connor makes electricity spout in his veins.

“Good. Me too, just wanted to make sure this is what you wanted,” Hank reassures, as he drops Connor’s hand and moves to start the engine. Connor grins at him.

“You are what I want Hank,” Connor loves the way Hank’s breath hitch as he says those words. He loves the way he tenses in the drivers seat, before he relaxes and his lips forms a happy smile. “And I won’t let anyone keep us apart.”

“Damn right, kid,” Hank voices as he puts his foot on the accelerator, and the car begins to move. “You know they’re going to look for you, right?”

“Of course,” Connor says, looking out the window as they drive by the scenery he’s seen countless times before. As if saying goodbye. “But we’ll get a few hours advantage now. Hopefully, we’ll even be able to pass the border to the west before they notice I’m gone.”

“I’ll drive as quick as I can, baby,” Hank voices, once more grabbing Connor’s hand. He presses a long, but soft kiss to Connor’s knuckles, and the prince has never felt more safe and loved. “Let’s live happily ever after.”

Connor doesn’t reply, and he knows he doesn’t need to. He just squeezes his hand holding Hank’s and watches the town he was born in disappear behind him. He has never felt so free.

When the rest of the town awakes, and the maids notices Connor’s absence, Hank and Connor has already passed the border. They’re free. 

But most importantly; they’re together, and nothing will ever keep them apart.


	6. day 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> today's prompt: presents

Ever since Connor deviated, he had changed.

And  _ no,  _ it wasn't a radical change by any means. He was still the same serious, goofy Connor that he had been before he had met Markus and changed his fate. He was still one of the smartest living beings alive who also happened to still be quite socially awkward. His LED still spun, a quiet hum that was loud when the rest of the room was silent.

But he had started developing his own taste in things. Connor had found a fascination with music as of late; the look on his face when he had heard Imagine Dragons, a band that was popular when Hank was in his thirties, was incredible, and it's a face Hank still thinks about before he goes to sleep. Connor likes both emotional songs with beautiful and colorful lyrics. He says it makes him feel things, because that's also something Connor has figured out - he  _ likes  _ feeling things.

Connor has also developed a preference when it comes to art. He enjoys the paintings that Marcus makes, with themes of justice and liberty and  _ love,  _ and more than once Connor had spent whole evenings talking about his own interpretation of famous pieces, trying his best to tell Hank every emotion that passed through his body as he looked at the paintings.

He has a fashion sense too, now. Although he says he doesn't mind the Cyberlife uniform, he never turns down an opportunity to wear one of Hank's more stylish shirts, loving the way it was too big for his frame. Sometimes Connor even wore the ones he found hideous, and Hank can't help but to blush when he thinks about how well Connor wore them.

It's obvious Connor likes the clean and professional look the most. He seems to enjoy when it's symmetrical or just a one-colored piece that he can match with other pieces of clothing. 

That's why Hank’s surprised to find Connor not follow behind him as they walk along the mall in the center of Detroit, one cool day in December. Connor has his eyes glued to whatever is on the other side of the shop’s window.

It's  a light purple wool sweater with a pattern of a cartoon dog sewn onto it, placed on a mannequin _(ever since the androids got free rights, they bought the plastic dolls back, in place for the androids who wanted more meaningful jobs than standing in a window all day)_. The words “Merry Christmas” is in large, bold letters and it makes the shirt even more eccentric, but Connor doesn't seem to mind. His warm brown eyes are wide and almost childlike as he watches the sweater on display.

He gets out of his trace when he feels Hank come closer to him. He shifts the weight on his feet from one to the other as he drops the gaze on the sweater to stare at Hank. There's a small smile on his lips - a genuine one - and his cheeks are slightly covered in blue. 

“It's cute, isn't it?” Connor asks in a voice so sweet that Hank can feel himself melting at where he stands.

He doesn't really think its cute, but obnoxious and weird. But he figures that he shouldn't be the one coming with fashion advice. And because he really  _ loves  _ the smile on Connor’s lips, he settles for a “yes, it is.”

Connor beams at him, and Hank finds that he doesn't mind the white lie. It was worth it to see Connor smile so wide. 

Connor throws a last gaze at the shirt, as if saying goodbye to it, before he takes a hold of Hank's hand and pulling him in the direction of where they parked Hank’s car. “Lets go home!”

Hank fumbles, because of the fact that Connors soft hand is holding on to his and because the ground is  _ really  _ slippery, but he catches his balance. Connor chuckles lightly and Hank can feel the heat rise in his cheeks.

He would do anything to see Connor this happy. Always

-x-

“For me?” Connor asks a little more than a week later. It's the 25th of December, and the snow is falling heavily outside. It's cold inside, but Connors smile is enough to make Hank feel warm.

It's a smile of awe and surprise and something that Hank hopes is  _ love. _ Because that's what he feels for Connor.

“Yes. Now open it up, before Sumo can grab it,” Hank exclaims, grinning widely at Connor. Sumo’s tail hitting the floor is suddenly a background noise, as he gets excited by hearing his name get called.

“Okay,” Connor says shyly, blue tinting his cheeks, and Hank realizes that  _ shit _ , this might not only be the first time that Connor celebrates Christmas, but also the first time he has ever received a real gift, and suddenly he's feeling a lot more self-conscious. 

It's obvious Connor isn't used to opening presents. He rips the wrapping paper up gently, as if afraid to let it get more broken than it already is. Hank would tell him to hurry up, if it wasn't for his heart beating loudly in his chest.

Inside the wrapping paper is a small cardboard box, that Connor manages to open up without any hesitation. What peeks out is a purple piece of clothing, one that Connor immediately recognizes.

“Oh,” he says, as he lifts the sweater up to look at it. The silly dog is looking right back at him through his eyes of yarn, as if taking in every moment of Connors reaction.

And the dog isn't the only one; Hank is also watch intently, looking for any signs that this wasn't a big fucking mistake. He gets his answer quickly though, as Connors lips form a grin and his eyes get glossy with tears.

“I love It,” Connor says happily, hugging it to his chest. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Uh- y-yeah, sure,” Hank manages to get out, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. He scratches his beard. “You should, uh, try it out.”

Connor wastes no time; he pulls off the t-shirt that he had borrowed from Hank, the one that he always used when he went into his statis mode when he went to sleep next to Hank, over his shirt, seemingly nonchalant about how the sight of his bare skin affects the lieutenant. It's over as soon as it appears though, Connor pulling the piece of fabric over his frame in one excited motion.

It's slightly too big on him; the hem off the shirt passes the wonderful curve of his butt and covers the upper parts of his thighs. The arms are also too long, but Connor pulls them up above his hands again.

It's such a silly sweater. But Connor makes it look good. He makes it look _fantastic_. 

“It fits great,” Connor says as he looks down at his frame. His voice is full of happiness, and he’s basically skipping as he makes his way over to Hank. He’s close, right in front of him, and Hank’s breath hitch as Connor leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. Hank lets out an embarrassing squeak at the touch, but it’s worth it, for the vibrant red spreading on Connor’s cheeks. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hank grumbles, and Connor smiles even wider at him.

The snow is falling outside of their house. Sumo is sleeping soundly on his bed by the couch. Connor is looking at Hank as if he’s the most important person in the the world, and things start to feel a lot better for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make connor happy at all costs


	7. day 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: slight sexual harassment in the beginning  
> today's prompt: fake/pretend relationship

It was ironic, really.

All Connor wanted was to go buy his usual coffee drink from the Starbucks in the central of Detroit, like he usually did. It was nothing new - just as he had woken up at the same time as always and walked the same path to the coffee shop, it was routine. He hadn’t expected this to be different from all the other times in anyway or form.

But he gets stopped outside of the coffee shop. A man - who seems to be in his middle thirties, with brown hair and dark eyes, smirks at him when Connor meets his eyes, and Connor immediately realizes his mistake.

“Hey, sweet thing,” The man starts off, with a voice that Connor assumes is supposed to resemble sexy. “You looking really good. But do you know where your clothes would look better?”

Connor just blinks, his lips not moving an inch upwards. He would think that the man would take the quite obvious hint, but just to his luck, the man’s smirk turns bigger. “Oh, shy, are we? Don’t worry. After I’m done with you, I’ll have you moaning my name over and over.”

The man is getting closer to him and Connor can feel his hot breath on his face. He reeks of alcohol and trouble and Connor takes two steps back. The man follows and Connor can feel his heart start to beat rapidly in his chest.

He’s about to scream, to push the man away, to do  _ something  _ to make him  _ stop _ , but the pressure from an arm getting thrown around his shoulder catches him of guard.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late,” a gruff voice comes from his right, and he turns around to see an older man look down at him. His eyes are a deep, beautiful blue and Connor feels his breath hitch. “Did you wait long?”

Of course, Connor hadn’t - they didn’t even know each other, so they hadn’t planned a meeting - but the look the man sends him tells him to play along. “No, not at all.”

“That’s good,” the man says, and he leans in to press a kiss to Connor’s cheeks. His savior's beard tickles against his skin, and Connor feel his knees get weak. The man with the beard and the arm around Connor moves his gaze towards the man that just a few moments ago was harassing Connor, but now just stands still and looks at them both with a confused gaze. “Ah, sorry, I haven’t introduced myself to you! I’m Hank, boyfriend to this wonderful human being.”

Hank’s arm squeezes Connor’s shoulders as he speaks, pulling him closer to him. Connor feels all kinds of warm.

And safe. He feels  _ safe. _

“I saw that you were trying to pressure my love here into something that he clearly didn’t want, eh?” Hank’s voice, that just a few moments ago was polite and warm, has turned cold. Connor can almost see the color drain from the harassing man’s face. “You’re glad I’m not on duty at the moment, because I’m quite sure you aren’t a fan of the Detroit Police.”

The man looks like a ghost. “No, sir.”

“Leave him alone and go away, you piece of shit,” Hank’s exclaims, and the man jumps at the way Hank’s voice raises in volume, before he turns around to walk away in a brisk place. As soon as he turns a corner and he’s out of sight, Hank looks down at Connor again. He shivers when he feels the weight of the blue eyes on him. “Let’s go inside.”

Starbucks is warm, a big contrast to the cool December weather outside. They move to stand in one of the corners of the shop, where they can converse freely, without too many curious eyes on them.

“Sorry for that,” Hank laughs, once he has looked around the shop to make sure the harassing man hasn’t returned. Connor notices that Hanl's smile is one of nervousness, his cheeks stained a beautiful red. Hank’s arm falls away from Connor’s shoulder, and Connor finds himself missing the weight of it around him. “It looked like you were in trouble.”

“Don’t apologize,” Connor starts, his heart still beating loudly in his chest. “I was in an uncomfortable situation. I’m really thankful for your help.”

“Don’t mention it, it was my pleasure,” Hank replies, his grin wide. Connor finds himself falling for his smile.

“At least let me buy you a coffee,” Connor offers. “That’s the least I can do.”

“I actually need to get going now, I’m late to my shift,” Hank says, running a hand through his silver hair. Connor can’t help but stare. “But I’d definitely like to take up that offer on another day, if you don’t mind?”

The smile on Hank’s lips is genuine and almost a bit sheepish. It seems illogical until Connor realizes that Hank basically asked if they could meet up again. He basically asked him on a date.

“Of course,” Connor replies, a grin high on his lips. He tries to fight it back, but there’s no stopping it. Hank looks pleased at the reply and he soon walks out of the coffee shop, with a number richer in his phone.

And as Connor stands in the line to get the coffee he went all this way for, he can’t help but thank the unusual. Because that made him meet Hank.

And he has a feeling that’s going to change his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap of hannor week for me! whoop whoop!!
> 
> i found out about this event quite late, so unfortunately, most of these aren't as good or long as they could've been. but i'm glad it got some love and i'm glad i managed to make something! 
> 
> thanks for reading, and please continue to celebrate the amazing ship that is hank/connor!
> 
> (you can find me on twitter @ jeonghooons)


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